Sippin' on some syrup - versuri Three Six Mafia | Versuri.ro
Sippin' on some syrup - versuri Three Six Mafia | Versuri.ro
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Versuri Three Six Mafia - Sippin' on some syrup


Sippin' on some siz-erp, sip, sippin' on some, sip (Repeat 8x)

Pimp C-
For a trill, working the wheel, a pimp not a simp
Keep the dope fiends higher than the Goodyear Blimp
We eat so many shrimp, I got iodine poisoning
Punk niggas make me sick with all the pidgeoning and bargaining
You say that you a boss, I ain't believing that s***t
You got a funny Geneva evil watch, with the Ferrari kit
Take that monkey s***t off, you embarra*sing us
I got the web from mezzazine, thick orange and yellow cuffs
Hyper called on, on the hands-free phone
The '84 roam, on them blades, 20-inch chrome
If you got 16, you can get a biz-erp
I'm choking on that doja sweet and sipping on that sizz-erp

DJ Paul-
Niggas scared to flaunt it, some niggas they want it want it
Some niggas they join it joint it, but I be f**ked up up on it
Well we're the Mafia 6, and we ain't bout that bulls***t
If we gon' get high we gon' get high, and we gon' haves a bitch
Two niggas all at the mouth, niggas all at the a*s
And plus there's some type of niggas that
Caught all night and she cool with that
She popped off a pill of X, and drank off some orange juice
And just when you thought she was freaky she done got super
loose
Niggas come in by threes and twos, all in circles like
duck-duck-goose
All it wanted, can flaunted, she on that X and the tootie fruit
40 dollars for just one ounce ounce plus
The next is how its no ounce niggas
Niggas sipping and dipping and tripping, man I'm bout all out

Sippin' on some siz-erp, sip, sippin' on some, sip (Repeat 4x)

Juicy J-
People always asking me, 'Me the Three 6 high on that'
Rolling on them X pills, scurry pup-pup powder packs
Woah-wuh where the weed at, ain't like that we need that
Night crillers slow me down, want something that keep me easy
Nothing like that yella yella better hey you're itching man
Talking like you 'What's up, fool? ' Vocal chords sounding lame
In my days all we did was G-fight on the quarter pound
Gone on coke, eyes are buck, he should have knocked you down
Now you're out, lay up all asleep when you're up on them wheels
Ain't no doubt, hit me when I peep for this wheat field
Once again, on my wicked high, gotta have that dank
Heard my name, Gino, I feel like I'm gonna f**king faint

Bun B-
Let me continue what you know, I bring Nito and Young Guido
Hauling Vito, we play a tune sweeter than? Bedito?
With my Three 6 niggas hoeing up in my southern creedo
Quick fast, we'll put it on your a*s like John Vito
Cause you fronting rap sanger, be creamy like a Zanger
You ain't from the major boy, but you gets the middle finger
Humdanger, rum dranker, occaisionally take
Your bitch to the Tilly and be a dick and cum slanger
When Big Bun come danger, nigga ring your alarm
Sexy thang on my arm, cup of drank in my palm
And that crazy s***t, I'm tripping on some skinny bitches
Some the hoes, I'm Florida the foes
And for the most I'm steady sippin' on some

Sippin' on some siz-erp, sip, sippin' on some, sip (Repeat til
fade)







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